


Just a Fly in the Ointment

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Future Fic, Married with a Teen Daughter, The title is a Die Hard reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: What do you get when you cross two retired SHIELD agents, the high school PTA, and an international jewel smuggler? An explosive story of humor, intrigue, and (small town) espionage!





	Just a Fly in the Ointment

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this four months ago. Thank you to dilkirani for her support and beta-editing!!

“This is absurd.”

Jemma slammed the car door with more force than necessary as she shot her husband a glare over the roof. He only shrugged and pulled a covered wicker basket from the backseat.

“I always bring food to these meetings, you know that. It’s become expected of me at this point, if I’m being quite honest.”

“I don’t mean your scones, Fitz. I’m talking about these bloody PTA meetings you’ve volunteered us for.” She gestured wildly, a travel carafe in her hand. Piping hot tea sloshed around inside, and she was dimly glad the cap was screwed on tight. Her husband fell in step next to her and tucked his free arm around her waist as they headed to the school.

“We both agreed it’s important to be active participants in Edie’s education, and that includes participating in the school community. For obvious reasons, you and I don’t have much personal experience with the American public school system. I’m certain by the time you were Edie’s age, you’d contributed to at least two pieces in science journals.” 

He nudged her, a teasing grin forming at the corner of his mouth, but Jemma was too focused on the looming cinder-block building to notice. Finger-painted rainbows and turkeys made in the shape of handprints filled the bottom row of windows. The turkeys were an odd choice since it was March, but it was a fine exercise for young cognitive skills. 

The young science club was meeting somewhere in the far left of the building and Edie had stayed after class to check it out—much to her mother’s relief. Last week, she’d shown interested in the poetry club and while Jemma had done her best to be a supportive mum, but Jemma had never cared about the significance of sestets or found the allure of an enjambment. It was bad enough Fitz repeatedly dragged her to the PTA, she didn’t know what she’d do if her daughter took an interest in creative writing. 

“This is the  _ ninth _ meeting we’ve been to in five weeks. As a result, it will then be the  _ ninth _ event we’re forced to co-organize and oversee.”

“Which are both things you excel at and love.”

“I  _ hate  _ these meetings, I hate this stupid school, and I hate these bloody events.” She knew she was sulking but she didn’t care. Instead, she kicked at the gravel spilling out from the otherwise well-manicured flowerbeds onto the sidewalk. “They’re so…”

“This is about Claudia Pendleton, isn’t it?” There was a note of understanding to Fitz’s tone as he held the door open for her before following.

“She  _ hates  _ me,” Jemma wailed, her voice practically echoing in the mostly empty building.  “She was the one who thought it was a good idea I judge the science fair.” 

“You said her son’s project was adequate for a first grader.”

“And it was!”

“He’s a freshman.”

“And isn’t  _ that _ the real problem, here?” She shot him a look over her shoulder before yanking open the next set of interior doors, leading to the larger rooms typically used for art and music classes.

“Do you want to teach high school science?” he teased.

“God, no. I didn’t even want to  _ take _ high school science.”

“You didn’t.”

“Exactly.” Jemma set about making herself a cup of tea. “You could probably teach here, they love you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said—they love you. Dave over there is already drooling at the prospect of your scones.”

“That’s Dale, Claudia’s husband. And my scones are quite legendary.”

“Yes, darling, I know. I always say so.” She held her paper cup of tea to her lips and gave him a coy smile. He winked back at her. “But, seriously, you get on with everyone here. You actually flourish in this environment. Scones and carpool and footie practice. Quite the Mr. Mom, you are.”

“I just,” he shrugged, “I enjoy it.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek as if suddenly self-conscious, he reminded her of the young, awkward teenage boy she’d met a lifetime ago.

“Lugging an SUV full of sticky children to kick a ball around a field?”

“Being a da, yeah.” He rocked forward onto his toes.

She smiled at his not-so-secret confession; her heart so full with love for him that her previous annoyance about attending PTA meetings melted away.

When they first discussed having a child, Jemma had tried her best to assuage his fears about fatherhood, about nature versus nurture. And from the moment the test turned positive, he had been the perfect father. He had doted on her throughout her difficult pregnancy, coping well with her bizarre cravings and wild emotions, as well as medical scares and bed rest. Then, when he’d held sweet little Edith Rose in his arms, this boy she’d known the better part of her life had changed into the man she’d known him to be all along—fiercely protective, loving, and patient. Now, twelve years later, Fitz’s patience helped keep Jemma’s own anxiety about raising a preteen girl in the current social climate at an even keel.

“And you’re a great dad, Fitz.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, fingertips running over the gray hair peppering at his temples.

He squawked with faux embarrassment, tipping his head in the direction of the other parents. “Not in front of the principal, Jemma.”

Despite rolling her eyes, she glanced across the room, checking to see if Principal Cooper was actually looking in their direction. He definitely wasn’t. Instead, he was speaking with two men—the shorter of the two men looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place him. Aside from Claudia and Dale’s regular attendance (due, of course, to Claudia’s standing as lead chairperson), there was a high turnover of parents. The lucky ones escaped and never came back, while a few others returned once in a while.

Maybe, after this event, she could convince her husband to take a break for a few weeks.

“Who’s Cooper speaking with?” she whispered, inching closer to Fitz’s side.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” They both watched as Cooper was pulled away from his conversation by Denise Ratner, the PTA treasurer. Jemma cringed. Denise, out of solidarity with Claudia,  _ also _ hated her.

“How would I know? You’re more involved in this school than I am.”

Now, the two men were clearly struggling to keep their arguing to a low volume. Soon, the taller man stormed off leaving the shorter man scowling at Cooper’s back before cutting a sharp glance toward the large clock above the doorway. Next to her, Fitz hummed with interest. He was becoming quite the gossip hound. “I wonder what that’s about?”

Yes, they definitely needed a break from the school community after this event.

She dragged him to a couple of chairs in the second row from the front of the room, right behind Cynthia Sheppard and Connie Vinton. They were best friends and, Jemma had quickly learned, they were referred to as the Catty C’s for good reason.

“Well, he’s quite the catch, though,” Cynthia stage-whispered to Connie.

“Definitely easy on the eyes,” Connie added and her friend hummed in agreement.

“You know, Melissa heard it from Steve who heard it from Trisha that those aren’t even their real names. They had to go into Witness Protection because they used to conduct experiments for the government. Like, on animals, and stuff. Maybe even people.” Cynthia made a sound of displeasure, sucking air through her teeth. Blood rushed through Jemma’s ears—were they talking about her and Fitz? “Well, she seems more than capable, if you ask me. She’s hardly the doting wife.”

“I honestly don’t know what he sees in her,” Cynthia interjected. “She doesn’t seem at all domestic. I mean, he’s the one supplying the baked goods every week. Mark can’t even find the stand mixer’s on switch.”

“Maybe they do things differently  _ across the pond,”  _ Connie mimicked a sickly-sweet British accent and Jemma’s shock quickly transitioned to hot fury. Next to her, Fitz winced, placing a warm palm on her knee while stretching and curling the fingers of his free hand.

She leaned forward, speaking in a tone she hadn’t used since her days of running the Science and Technology division at SHIELD.

“It’s because I’m such a fantastic shag.” The two women jumped, startled. Fitz swallowed a surprised laugh. “Oh, right, ‘shag’ is British for fu—”

“All right, I think it’s time to get this meeting underway.” Principal Cooper clapped his hands together and addressed the small crowd of gathered parents as Claudia, her face frozen in an unnatural smile, took her place next to him. Jemma settled back into her seat and Fitz gave her knee a loving, supportive squeeze.

“Whaddya say we skip the next few meetings?” he whispered in her ear.

“I’d say you read my mind,” she replied, glancing over at him. Before turning back around, she noticed the man Cooper had chatted with earlier behaving even more strangely. Sitting at the end of their aisle, he kept glancing back and forth between his watch and the large room clock. Then, taking out his mobile, he began to type furiously.

“What do you think that’s about?” Jemma tipped her head in the man’s direction and Fitz followed her gesture.

“Maybe he’s upset his partner left.”

“Hmm. Seems odd.”

“It’s probably nothing. You’ve been out of the  _ animal experiment _ business for over a decade. Not everything is an  _ experiment _ .” He mumbled, arching an eyebrow as if she wouldn’t’ve followed his use of the Catty C’s bonkers assumption of their past careers.

“Remember two weeks ago when you thought the plumber was taking an extra-long time under our house? You ran a background check on him while he drained the septic tank.”

“No, I thought it was absurd you even called a plumber in the first place when I’m right here.”

“Oh, please. You’re an engineer with a queasy stomach.”

Jemma shushed him when he let out an indignant squeak.

“Ah, yes, Drs. Fitz-Simmons,” Principal Cooper called out. Apparently they hadn’t been as quiet as she’d thought. “Thank you for volunteering! I know the carnival fundraiser is in great hands with you two at the helm.”

“The what?” Jemma gritted her teeth and Claudia glared at her for reasons she wasn’t entirely sure. The fidgeting man at the end of aisle suddenly turned to them, his phone still in his hand. His hard stare gave her an uneasy feeling and she elbowed Fitz.

But before she could comment on the stranger and his dead eyes, or even their accidental agreement to run the fundraiser and Claudia’s disdain, an explosion rocked the building.


End file.
